


You're Worth It

by comets_nix



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anger, Cussing, Harringrove, M/M, Steve is too pure, and Billy loves him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 04:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comets_nix/pseuds/comets_nix
Summary: A request from a friend-Billy gets a speeding ticket, to no surprise, and is beyond pissed about it. Good thing there's someone to calm him down.





	You're Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Harringrove fic, so please don't mind anything that's not in character!

There was very few things Billy Hargrove loved more than the screaming engine of his own car.  
Maybe two, to be exact. Two things better than sitting in a worn leather seat, with even more worn leather draped across his shoulders and chest that had... seen enough beatings for one life time. His cup holders that held nothing but a pack of cigarettes to his right, and a window with a view of the crisp fall woods to his left. Those woods currently being a brown and orange blur of speed however- but he wasn't out there for a slow drive of sight seeing anyways. One boot-clad foot to the gas, probably- no, _for sure_ \- a little too close to the floor than it should have been, and the other close by resting lazily where he could feel the vibration of the front wheels whine in pure power as they ran across the pavement as if they had always owned the place. The exhaust roared outside behind him, but he could feel it everywhere inside- could feel it start in the front where an engine built beyond man ran like thunder and battled with the radio over who could strike an earache faster, and fall back with the wind through a maze of horsepower beneath the seat, until disappearing outside as just a crackling reminder of where he had been. Anyone would say, _well Billy, if you really did love your damn devil of a car so much, you'd take better care of it, wouldn't you? You wouldn't blow through mailboxes every fucking night you felt like it, or slam on your breaks while going over fifty, or take off every single time like you're trying to launch yourself into space_.  
But no matter them, of course- this town was just full of piss and shit eating hillbillies who had no idea the power of his car. It was a damn Camaro for Christ's sake- no one within a twenty mile radius had probably ever even seen one in real life. Shit, he was so beyond this fucking town he could just rip his untamed hair out at the very thought of how sick and slow everything there moved. His car was his damn sanctuary against the cage this place was, and locking himself inside and driving as fast as he damn well could was the least he could do to escape.  
Yes, only two things indeed better than leaving a trail of fire in his path as his beast of a car tore through a shit eating town full of shit eating people.  
One of those things was a full bottle of beer in his hand, and any care of salvaging his mental state long gone- if any had ever been there to begin with.  
And he was on his way to the other thing right now.  
Just a few more minutes- and then he'd _gladly_ hit the brakes in a driveway that lead to heaven.  
Baby blue eyes blinked once in a slow, dry motion, not truly caring that they had been lost in a day dream for the past few minutes, and Billy took a deep sigh in that expanded his chest and pulled on the tight shirt under his jacket. Just him, a forest smeared in the windows, and-  
Flashing lights in the rearview? That... wasn't part of the plan... Red and blue twinkled in the corners of his eyes in the glass, and for a moment Billy glanced around everywhere in and outside of the car in slight panic, wondering if it was just a mistake in the mirror, if he was actually seeing every drivers fucking nightmare grow closer to his trunk. But yep, there they were- the dreadful sirens of a fucking cop car.  
_This fucking town_...  
Well, alright then, if that's what they wanted.  
Billy hit the brakes with so much force in his heeled boot a flash of panic that he actually snapped the pedal in two flashed through his mind, before his damn perfect car lurched to a smoke wielding 0 mph- the two right tires resting in the dead grass and fallen brown leaves of the woods around them. White smoke drifted past his windows, seeming to move a thousand times faster than normal, and Billy was goddamn jealous it could keep on down the road instead of him. He truly should have gone right through the windshield at such a sudden halt, and had it not been for his rage rigid form that was all too used to things like this, he just might have.  
The cop car, as expected, had been nowhere near prepared for such a _gracious_ obedience of the law, and Billy turned his head just in time to see it swerve with a weak screech of tires to avoid making love with his back end. The boulder of a car rocked to a stop in the road next to him, the red and blue disco growing brighter through the clearing haze of burned rubber.  
The sirens cut in a hilarious death, whining away as if giving up hallway through the job, leaving Billy's breath and the rumble of the engine the only noise surrounding him.  
A car door slammed shut out of his sight, but the cowboy hat and heavy footfall of a police officer wasted no time marching around the outdated car and right up to Billy's window- to which he now ever so graciously rolled down.  
_"What the FUCK was that Hargrove?"_  
Just one blink and the pissed face of a man aged only by stress was inches from his. Billy didn't move, blink, maybe even breathe, for a total of four seconds. He didn't think he knew the man in front of him- but judging by the fury in the old eyes currently burning into his, this man knew him. He looked like the kind of man who was most certainly married to some wife that hated her fucking life, because her dear husband would either come home filled with piss and vinegar at his oh so stressful job of driving around in a goddamned cop car, or not come home at all, instead ditching his badge and hitting the same damn bar where he'd forget how many women he whistled at and how many beers he downed. Billy could see this bitch in front of him hated his own life because hey, being a cop in this cursed town of Fuckins Indiana wasn't what you saw anywhere else, was it? It wasn't shooting at bad guys and stopping bombers or saving the damn world, it was... _driving around in your cop car,_ staring at teenagers until you went fucking insane and ran them down because they skipped the wrong way or sneezed too loud.  
The cops there were a distraction to themselves and everyone else from what was really going on, out in that-  
"You going to answer me or am I going to have to drag you out of that goddamned seat boy?" A growl of a command this time, and Billy finally breathed- the ringing that had started in his ear finally muting.  
"Can I fucking help you?"  
"Yeah, you can fucking tell me why the hell I caught you going _eighty fucking five, in a goddamned forty!"_ He screamed in Billy's face, old knuckles gripping the metal of the door frame so hard they squeaked on the smooth surface. "I 'ought to fucking rip you out of there and test you for drugs that don't even exist yet, but you know what Hargrove? _I don't even have to!_ Because your stupid mullet wearing ass is such a goddamn _burden_ to everyone sane and insane in this town, that I'm not even fucking surprised! I could bet my damn _life_ on seeing you out breaking a law-"  
_"So arrest me then you old fuck! You don't have to put up with me if you don't want to, FUCK!"_ Billy hadn't raised his voice all day, the sudden shout made him flinch, his nails tearing the leather of the steering wheel and spit kissing the door inches from the officers hands.  
_"You listen here you little PUNK. I DON'T have to take any shit from you!_ But lucky for your sorry bitch of an ass, I don't have time to drive you off to the slammer for Mommy to come pick up. So I'm gonna write you a ticket I'd just like to see you pay off, got it? _And I'll tell you what,"_ The old man- who Billy didn't dare read the badge name of- nearly growled in his face, his voice lowering to the whisper of a devil, _"I'll also pretend like I don't see you with out a goddamn seatbelt, as much as it'd joy me to scrape you off the fucking pavement some day."_ Something deep in Billy's gut caught fire, and burned slow and hot. His nails burrowed deeper into the wheel, he just might need to buy a cover for it soon if this kept up. Those words; they brought on a rage in Billy that... That just, burned out immediately. He felt sick at thinking about what he wanted to do to this old son of a bitch. The menace he had as he spoke to Billy- he could seriously make wolves wet themselves, he'd give the grandpa that, but Billy was a fucking _lion,_ and don't think for a _second_ that he'd keep his claws in. He wanted to put this old man's fucking head under his back tires and spread him across town, hell, it'd be a damn good improvement. He wanted to look him dead in the eye and just whisper _I don't have a fucking mommy to pick me up officer, so go ahead and haul me away, because I'd make your life a living hell. And hey, if you want my blood on the road, then why don't you just open my door and_ -  
But... the reason he'd been speeding in the first place...  
His face burned at remembering why, _why_ he had been crawling his way up to 90 miles an hour down the street, and hoped to whatever God existed that the cop couldn't see the reddening of his scruffy face. It was getting hard to keep looking at him, the flashing lights in the background lingering longer each time in his vision.  
Good luck for the first time that day, he supposed, as one more blink that steadied him back to reality displayed in front of him said cop writing down a ticket with such force Billy could hear the paper rip. It was yanked off the pad so hard and fast it was a miracle the thing didn't shred immediately, but Billy supposed maybe they were made for shit like this. That's what all this was, anyway, was pure _shit_.  
"You have that paid the hell off in three weeks or I'll get your sorry ass once and for all, got it?" The shout was unnecessary at this point. Billy took the ticket with a fist made of fire, turned his eyes to the road, and summoned a _"Fine,"_ from his throat.  
He pretended to not hear the scoff from the officer as he leaned back, finally, away from his window.  
"Or, if I catch you doing this shit again, I'm going to cut your fucking license in half and throw it in your ugly mug." He spat, just an empty, useless threat, the both of them knowing damn well that wasn't how it worked.  
The ticket joined the cigarettes- how had those not been found as well? Or maybe they had, but poor old man couldn't even comprehend yet another misdemeanor at once. Once again tires cheered with high pitched joy and a spray of dirt as those irritating flashing lights went the hell away.  
It took too long to get there, it always took too long, but soon enough the familiar black pavement practically kissed the tires of his car as it just barely took a slow turn into the drive.  
A house fit for twenty stared him down- damn that boy and his family's fucking money. Sometimes Billy felt sick down to his deep, dark insides if he thought about it too long. Money felt like a phantom to him now a days, like a drug you had to swipe off the streets- hard as hell to get and easy as shit to lose. And there, at that house, they probably ate it for fucking breakfast.  
He had made a comment about it in the beginning- some dumb joke made on insecurity about how the pillows there were probably stuffed with pennies and how they probably wiped with hundreds- but one wrong look of reaction in those brown eyes was all it took, and he had never spoke of it again. Billy was sure he had also probably took a good inch off the tip of his fucking tongue, never regretting his gross big mouth more.  
The engine died at the command of the key. There he was, left with silence, rubbing his shadowed jaw, sniffing once gently.  
Billy grabbed the discarded ticket while keeping his eyes on the closed garage door in front of him, and didn't glance down at the lettering until it was flattened open once more in his hands.  
Pen scribbles that couldn't be read by anyone but the dirt bag who wrote them- but in plain, clear sight, circled of all fucking things, read _"Due: $600"_  
_"Motherfuck...."_ Billy whispered to himself. He liked to think it was a whisper that said, _'hell if I'm paying this shit, you can just kiss my ass Hawkins,'_ but a part of him knew that it was a sigh of defeat more than anything else.  
He threw it back to the cigarettes, focusing instead on opening his door, getting out, and walking to that front porch with his hands shoved in his jean pockets.  
He just had to ring the doorbell once before a second later it was thrown open and the doe eyes of Steve Harrington met his with such eagerness that Billy lost himself for a moment.  
"There you are, what took so long!?" No anger- there was never any anger, not anymore- just a smile as Steve stepped aside, allowing Billy to enter his home full of comfort and safety that felt forever away from the rest of that town. Billy didn't think he deserved to even look upon any of it, _didn't know why he even thought so in the first place_ \- but he walked in as always, his boots arguing with the polished hard wood floor as he avoided the gaze he knew he'd lose to.  
"Hey, what's up?" Damn that Harrington, always right on top of shit and so oblivious all at once. He was too nice, too sweet, too caring, he had to be. Billy's head swam with rage that wouldn't leave him alone, and whined in submission at the same time, seeing Steve as the only outlet for all the shit of the day.  
_How horrid that made him sound, oh god- as if he'd beat the shit out of him. He could never fight Steve, never again._  
He'd never admit it out loud, though. Or maybe he would one day, hell... it didn't seem so impossible now that he thought about it.  
"Billy, come on you look like you just got pulled over or something," Steve chuckled and took a step closer, but Billy jumped and beat it to him, had to, before-  
_"I did-"_ He growled, but it was too late, there those hands were, on his cheeks.  
They felt a hundred degrees, instantly warming his scared face to a gorgeous pink that made Steve smile and Billy stutter.  
"Wait...What?" The smile dipped away from Steve's lips as his words registered, and Billy took a stiff breath in, looking away to the floor over the fingers resting under his eyes. This thing was new, this- _touching_ , they did, or rather, Steve did. Steve did it so easily, but it always felt like iron to Billy. Nearly twenty years of no touch other than knuckles at full force taking blood without permission, especially to his face. Or the claws of a whore with blood red nails that pulled way too hard, even though he'd curse them later for not doing it hard enough anyways. And one of them one time that actually had caressed his face, and he had shoved her right off the bed with no second thought, absolutely repulsed at the thought that she wanted to _own_ him like that in such a way... And, when Billy touched Steve... He felt dirty. Who the fuck was he to be deserving of such a privilege?  
Steve touched him and sometimes Billy did pull away, but he was getting better at that. Steve wasn't anyone like them, just...  
"Yeah, I fucking got pulled over, son of a bitch thinks I'm going to pay-"  
He stopped, goddamn it. Steve wasn't even supposed to know about getting pulled over to begin with, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let him know about the actual consequences.  
"Pay what? I'm sure I could just pay it off for you it's fine-"  
"No!" Billy almost shouted, making Steve flinch as he gripped the brunettes hand on his face so fast it made a smack. "No, what the hell? I don't want your money, I-" Billy was doing it again, but by now....  
By now, Steve knew what he meant. By now, Steve also knew that that had been Steve's mistake; they had agreed long ago in a silent deal that money just... Wasn't a factor for them. They wouldn't mention it. Ever. Didn't need to.  
"It's fine..." One deep breath, all Billy needed to inhale the sour air between them and release it as something new. "I'm just... Pissed as hell, it wasn't even that bad, since when is going eighty-"  
_"Eighty!?"_ Steve was the first one to actually shout, and Billy tensed out of embarrassment for what would come next. "Eighty, what the hell Billy!? I know you speed but holy shit, I'm not that worth it!"  
Billy froze. He wasn't expecting... That.  
_"Yes you are..."_ His tone spoke firm, not wishing to ever argue on that. And it was Steve's turn to blush with him and stand statue.  
Billy looked at him, into him, into those warm eyes, and Steve looked right back. The blonde didn't think it possible, but his face reddened even more. How embarrassing, fuck, to be made mush of so damn easily.  
_"Shut up."_ He spoke first.  
Steve cracked a lopsided smile that made Billy's heart choke on itself, and softened his dark gaze even more.  
"I didn't say anything!" He smirked.  
"I know what you're thinking," Billy mumbled, and slid his hands down to take Steve's wrist, pulling his hands away from his face. "All you need to know it I hate cops, I hate this town, I hate speeding tickets, you're lucky I'm seeing you right now or else I'd go blow up a gas station."  
Steve laughed, a good light one, and Billy went to work on the inside of his lip to hold back a smile. The spot where his canine teeth met his mouth was well worn by now with old scars and tough skin, where it had been put through the ringer of biting and chewing over the past year of being... _This,_ with Steve.  
Well, he _knew_ what they were. Steve was his boyfriend, not doubt.  
Had he ever said that out loud though?  
They had said the _other thing_ to each other before, but-  
"Well, I hope you don't hate me too!" Steve's cheerful voice once again ended the daydream running through Billy's head, and the blonde scoffed in return.  
"You wish, don't you Harrington." He blinked as he gripped Steve's wrists a little harder, though never enough to cause pain. Steve's smile deepened, fell lower into something more. It did that often, Billy noticed, but each time it always struck a bolt of lighting right through him, that both empowered him and made his knees go weak at the same time. It was understanding, gentle, but not once pitiful.  
"Not really," Steve chuckled.  
Billy turned tail suddenly and walked to the stairs, taking them two at a time as his boots echoed heavy stomps through the house they had to themselves. He wouldn't dare come over if Steve's parents were home, that was a rule neither of them had to even address out loud. Steve followed close behind without a word, eyeing up the tight jeans hugging the boys legs and the leather jacket swaying over broad shoulders now almost twice the size of his own.  
Billy knew right where Steve's bedroom was, easily making himself at home on the wide bed, rolling to one side to gaze up at the other as Steve walked over to join him.  
"I'm sorry tough," Steve apologized.  
"For what?"  
"For you getting pulled over."  
"It's not your fault, why the hell are you apologizing?"  
Steve gently crawled atop the bed on all fours, before laying stomach down in front of Billy, inches from his chest. The blonde moved his gaze from chocolate eyes, to the curve of his ass that he now has a glorious view of in those skinny jeans, and Steve let him look.  
"I know it's not, but that's what people do you know. Feel sorry for- well, more like... You know, _sympathizing,_ with others when shit goes wrong. I'm not sorry I did something, I'm sorry you feel bad-"  
"I know what an apology is Steve," Billy mumbled, cutting him off, as his eyes once again met the other's. A few strands of Steve's bangs had fallen over his face when he had laid down, grazing right over his left eye and cheek; Billy could quite literally feel his stomach quiver at how... innocent he looked. How soft, sweet, so unlike himself in every way. If Billy ever had any hair in his face, it was an unkempt, tangled, crinkled mess burned by the sun that got caught on his pathetic excuse of a beard. And Steve's, on the other hand, was dark, soft to the touch, felt as if it was washed in some fountain of youth that could cure all, never out of place. Billy had seen that hair a multitude of ways, from prim and proper all the way to a bouncing, hot, sweaty mess...  
Billy was always the tough one, rough on the edges and even rougher on the inside. How had he ever gotten so close to someone like Steve?  
"Do you though?"  
"What?"  
"Oh my God," Steve laughed through his nose and cracked a toothy grin.  
"What?" Billy repeated himself, but it held no irritation- in fact, he finally let a small smile play at the corner of his lips for the first time that day. He knew he had just zoned out.  
"I saw you totally day dreaming, okay," Steve smiled wide and adjusted himself slightly to get more comfortable, the blonde swiping another look at his backside before returning the thick gaze.  
"Yeah, day dreaming about _you,"_ As if it was an insult, he pretended to mock. Steve blushed- a beautiful sight that sent Billy's pulse into over drive. His heart and blood felt like his car on the road, speeding away with the devil until only fire was left behind.  
He reached an arm out. Steve didn't move. Didn't want to, really shouldn't. He allowed Billy's hand to come to his face, and brush those bangs back over. He didn't tuck them behind Steve's ear- he'd never been a fan of that- instead dragging his whole hand through that beautiful wave of silky smooth mane, fingers roaming down over his head, through his hair, then down his jawline where they stopped just under his chin. Steve remained perfectly still through out, minus a fluttering blink at such a shiver-inducing gesture.  
Steve touched Billy plenty, but when Billy touched Steve...  
It was as if their hearts connected for a split second, a pure energy of trust that wasn't there before. Steve could count the number of times Billy had touched him first on one hand over the past year. The blonde still had the reputation of a damn bull fighter around town, and wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to let himself drop the extreme exterior that had been so easily built for himself. Billy screamed danger at every curve, portrayed it even more so, wouldn't back down from anything or anyone until he was beaten into the ground.  
_I don't love anyone, I'm a dangerous fuck of a man, I could kill you in a second if I really wanted to_ -  
How had Steve found himself laying peacefully, in love, with that man? How had he tamed the oh so malicious and deadly Billy Hargrove? Or maybe he hadn't tamed him, maybe Billy still was as bad as ever and Steve was just blinded by love.  
"So you gonna make me feel better then, mister nice guy?" Billy smiled now, his hand not leaving Steve's chin.  
"As always, your Royal Ass-ness," Steve whispered, a slow wink bringing a smile to both of them.


End file.
